Overwhelmed by grief and despair, a father lamented, “Where shall I stay, where shall I go? Who will remove my sorrow? I am ready to give up my life in this misery—alas, how wretched is my state!” In this moment of anguish, his wise son Gokarna approached him, gently guiding his father toward the path of detachment. Gokarna spoke with clarity, revealing the nature of worldly existence: “This world is insubstantial, full of suffering, and deluding. Whose son, whose wealth, whose affection truly endures and burns constantly?” He explained that even Indra, king of the gods, and the universal monarch find no lasting happiness; only the dispassionate sage who lives in solitude knows true peace. “Abandon ignorance, which takes the form of attachment to offspring,” Gokarna urged. “Through delusion comes the path to hell. This body will eventually perish, leaving all behind—go to the forest.” Hearing these words, the father, now resolved to depart, asked his son, “My child, tell me in detail what should be done in the forest.” He confessed his helplessness: “Bound in the dark pit by the snare of affection, I am lame, deceitful, and fallen through my actions—O ocean of compassion, please lift me up.” Gokarna counseled him further: “Abandon your attachment to this body made of bones, flesh, and blood. Always give up possessiveness toward wife, children, and others. See that this world is ever fleeting and perishable—be one who delights in detachment and devotion. Constantly practice true dharma, forsake worldly duties, serve saintly persons, and renounce desire and craving. Quickly give up thinking of others’ faults and virtues, and deeply drink the nectar of service and sacred stories.” Moved and compelled by his son’s words, the father left his home, journeyed to the forest at the age of sixty, and with firm resolve, engaged daily in service to Hari. Through recitation of the Tenth Canto, he attained Śrī Kṛṣṇa. He then resided in the celestial city, adorned with the splendor of the gods’ gardens, in the palace of Indra, built by Viśvakarmā, the abode of the fortune of the three worlds, together with all prosperity. Rich in knowledge, wealth, and noble birth, he remained free from pride and arrogance. After the father’s passing, tragedy struck the family. The mother was severely beaten by her own son, Dhundhukari, who demanded, “Tell me where the wealth is kept, or I will kill you with this stick!” Terrified and distressed for her son, the mother, in the darkness of night, threw herself into a well and met her end. Gokarna, established in yoga, departed on pilgrimage, untouched by sorrow or happiness, and indifferent to enemies and friends. Dhundhukari, however, remained at home, surrounded by five courtesans, performing extremely cruel deeds, his mind deluded by the need to maintain them. One day, desiring ornaments, the courtesans prompted Dhundhukari, who was blinded by lust and oblivious to death, to leave the house and obtain riches. He gathered wealth from various places, returned, and gave the women fine clothes, ornaments, and many things. But seeing the accumulation of wealth, the women whispered among themselves at night, “He steals daily; the king will arrest him. After taking the wealth, the king will certainly kill him; therefore, to protect our interests, why should we not secretly kill him ourselves?” Resolving thus, they bound him with ropes while he slept, killed him, took the wealth, and fled. Placing a noose around his neck, they began to kill him, but when he did not die quickly, they grew anxious. They threw heaps of burning coals into his mouth; tormented by the extreme pain of the flames, Dhundhukari perished. Those reckless women abandoned his body in a pit, and no one knew the secret. When questioned by others, the women claimed, “He has gone far away, for he is dear to us; he will return this year, drawn away by greed for wealth.” The text warns: a wise person should never place trust in wicked women; the fool who relies on them is overwhelmed by suffering. The words of lustful women are sweet as nectar, enhancing pleasure, but their hearts are sharp as razors—who among men is truly dear to them? Having seized his wealth, those promiscuous women, with many husbands, departed. Dhundhukari, now a great ghost, tormented by his evil deeds, assumed the form of a whirlwind, constantly running in all directions, afflicted by cold and heat, without food, and thirsty. He found no shelter anywhere, repeatedly crying out, “Alas, fate!” After some time, Gokarna learned of his brother’s death from the world. Recognizing Dhundhukari’s helplessness, Gokarna performed the Gaya funeral rites; wherever he traveled to a holy place, he conducted the rites there. Thus wandering, Gokarna returned to his own city; at night, he came to sleep in the courtyard of his house, unnoticed by others. There, perceiving Gokarna asleep, Dhundhukari revealed himself to his relative in the dead of night, displaying a most terrifying form. He became, in turn, a sheep, an elephant, a buffalo, Indra, Agni, and again a man—each form only once. Seeing this reversal, Gokarna, composed and resolute, determined that this was someone in a miserable state, and then spoke: “Who are you, so fierce at night? From where have you come to this condition? Are you a ghost, a goblin, or a demon? Tell us.” Suta said: Thus questioned, Dhundhukari cried out loudly again and again, unable to utter words, making only gestures of consciousness. Then Gokarna, taking water in his hands, raised him up; freed by that single act, the sinner began to speak. The ghost said, “I am your brother, named Dhundhukari; by my own fault, I have destroyed my human birth. There is no count of my deeds, transformed by great ignorance; I am one who harmed the worlds, killed by women through suffering.